My Suicide, My pain
by Blue6 - Blood66
Summary: [AU fic] Schu is a well-known psychologist who plays with his patients. But what if he's the one played? warning: weiB kreuz chars. twistings. slight yaoi. [Chapter 6: What, crawford?]
1. Drained

Notes:

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AU fic

Yaoi = BradXSchu (maybe)

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[- Ramblings -] = thoughts

My Suicide, My Pain 

"Good Morning, sir." The guard greeted me as I entered the glass doors. I smiled at him and proceeded to the hallway, with the employees lining the sides.

"Good Morning, Doctor," my fellow doctor greeted me with a grin on his face. I saluted him, taking off my trench coat and handing it to the lady beside me. A greet came from her thin lips and I greeted her just the same. Another hallway and nearly a hundred greets came to my ear. And a thousand skin contact, mostly from the women… ah of course. 

Plus a million random thoughts.

I headed to my office; the last one in the hallway, grinning to my secretary and settling myself to the chair, examining the documents piled on one side of the table. A large mug of coffee was already on my front, steaming hot. I smelled it and prepared to do my morning task: sip my coffee, get done with the paperwork and… harness my telepathy. 

Yeah, telepathy. The wonderful, amazing word. The thing that made me so fantastically famous. And may I add, wealthy. 

I closed my eyes for a second and placed a temporary wall in my mind, to make the other people's thoughts go distant and unheard. It was hard to use telepathy in this kind of place – too crowded and people think of so many things. Work, wife, husband, children, work, work, work, and work. I get a headache first thing in the morning.

Lucky that I have a loyal secretary who knows all about my thoughts… Simply because I made her as my journal, feeding her with my problems by mental conversation and made her as a secretary extraordinaire. My mug of coffee was already mixed with aspirin. I can tell by the smell. 

[- Good morning, Manx. -] I greeted her mentally.

[- Pleasant morning, Schuldig. Finish your coffee for you have lots of patients this afternoon. They've almost risen to a hundred! -] Manx returned happily. I sighed and downed the coffee. Sometimes I think being famous isn't that good. Especially if you have to use your gift to help them recover. 

You see, I have a bunch of psychos in my hands. 

But I have tons of women right on my fingertips. 

I smirked and stared at the documents in front of me. Maybe being famous isn't that bad after all. I sighed once again, and examined the folders one by one. I was quite a quick worker: examine, tap on the keyboard, stamp, and place it on the other side. Probably three minutes per folder. 

But I get another headache after that. 

God…

Maybe three of four hours passed when I finally stored all the patients' records in the computer. The airconditioner was working fine, but it felt so hot that I tied my orange hair in a low ponytail. I gave the folders to Manx and told her the usual thing before lunch: schedule. She gave me a business look and nodded. She was goddamn efficient! I wonder why she's just a secretary. 

[- What time? -] I asked in Manx's mind the hour of my serious work.

[- First patient comes at one o'clock sharp. I have already arranged the folders in your shelf, Mr. Schuldig. -] Manx responded in a monotone. Her thoughts were focused on work. Only work, nothing else. 

[- Schuldig, mademoiselle. Forget the mister part. Sucks. -] Manx actually snickered at that, but quickly resumed to scheduling. It was getting pretty busy nowadays, with all the troubled citizens needing therapy. But most of them have shallow and irrelevant problems. They can be cured for just two days… or less.

Suddenly, there was pain in my head. I cradled the throbbing head in my hands, the usual attack coming. I tried to shield it all away, but it was all in vain… 

I breathed heavily. The voices were getting in once again… 

I went outside the building, passing the numerous employees crowding in each room, and I pushed my mental shields higher to block myself from the voices. All I need now is silence. My feet were moving fast and I ignored every single look I received, even the women's stares. I can feel my long hair bouncing on my back. 

Finally, I reached the exit and nodded to the guard. The fresh air filled my lungs and refreshed my mind. I let the soft wisp of air trail on my cheeks. It really felt good… so good. The voices were dissipating slowly, getting rid of the throbbing pain.

I proceeded to my usual spot, on the side of the garden and sat on the cold metal bench below the canopy of a big tree. I relaxed my mind and body, crossing my legs and stretching my arms, resting them on the backboard. Before I close my eyes, my sight caught something moving from the far corner of the garden. 

And heard its mind:

[- It will be hard like this… -] the only thing that 'that thing' thought. I grimaced, trying to get in the thing's mind. But amazingly, it had barriers. 

[- Who are you? Why are you here? -] I demanded.

Nothing.

The bushes rustled as the thing's presence disappeared. I blinked and stared aimlessly. 

__

Am I the only one…? I asked myself, at length closing my eyes and dozed off. 

Even if I were asleep, my thoughts kept on playing by itself, like a dream, but different. It consisted of recent memories, old images and distant sounds. The encounters with my patients were buried somewhere in my brain, I don't know where. I don't care about them anyway. Once done, it's done. Never care anymore. 

And before I can even stop my mind, the memories played… 

__

A child dressed in a white robe, slumped on a cold marble floor. Everyone stares at the child, who had large green eyes, scanning the vicinity with pure naivity, whispering to himself, "Who…am…I? Who…are…you?"

…

A pair of sinister eyes staring at a 20-year old man wearing a suit. The man's eyes twitched as his thoughts were bombarded with random thoughts by the young man. The man behind the desk slowly nods his head and gestured the young man to the door. 

…

A child was talking to a woman who stares into nowhere. The child cries. Then, a man talked to the child, comforting him and making him stop crying. But the child continued crying… and crying…

I woke up in a jolt, my body becoming tense. I hated having those thoughts looming inside my head everytime I wanted a rest. It never went away. Then, I looked at my watch, massaging my temple slightly. It was already 12:05 pm. My stomach growled and I felt that my mental shields are fully rejuvenated. 

I stood up, but in the corner of my eyes I never failed to see the rustle of the bushes on the corner, eventually stopping. Without warning, a pair of large brown eyes appeared from the dark. And dark brown hair. I shivered as I noticed the eyes were blank, lifeless. 

[- What the heck are you doing in here? -] I said, quite irritated. I hate being stared at. 

It took quite a moment when the reply echoed in my head. [- Help me… -] and its presence disappeared once again. 

Disgruntled, I went back to the building, towards the cafeteria to grab something to eat and continue my work. The pair of brown eyes were hard to forget, and I felt a headache coming soon.

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Author's note: So what do you think? This is my first attempt at a Schwarz fic and I don't know if it sucked or what… please review, tell me what you think. It will help me so much. Thank you.


	2. Mind Problems

Notes: 

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AU fic

[- Ramblings -] = thoughts

**__**

Italic sentences = memories

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POV: 1st POV of Schuldig

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Yaoi: Pairings: SchuXblah blah blah

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Warning: messings with the Weiβ Kreuz characters [though I still maintain their 'distinctive' character] 

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My suicide, My pain

Chapter 2: Mind problems

The cafeteria was packed, and fortunately I can strengthen my mind barriers so that the people's thoughts will be blocked. I went to the line, smiling past the women giving me looks of admiration, most probably because of my stylish appearance. I have already loosened my hair before I went there, and the red-orange locks flowed on my face naturally, and down on my back. I have already buried the brown eyes in the depth of my mind, trying to relax my brain, and get on with eating before serious business.

Anyway, I picked up a tray and felt a guy watching me. I probed his mind and discovered he was thinking of getting a haircut, and other baloneys that I shouldn't think of right now. His stare was starting to get in my nerves. Growing irritated by the second, I tried as casually as I can to raise my head and look at him innocently, just to look at his face. 

God, he really did need a haircut. 

I tried not to snicker as I took in the appearance of the guy. He had curly blond hair reaching below his chin and was dead flat on the end. It was unruly, yes, but the color of his hair was glorious, only that his haircut isn't getting closer to a beginner's. In an attempt to be friendly, I threw a smirk at him. And surprisingly, without a bit of surprise crossing his facial expression, the guy smiled.

The people behind me were nagging me to go on because I was staring for too long. I hurried on and got a small meal, paid for it while searching the guy's mind. I really don't know why I'm doing this; I only search information from women who had hot features. 

I proceeded to the table near the guy and sat down. Well, actually he was beside me now, grinning. 

Fuck the hell who messed with my mind. I actually thought this man was hot. 

"Kudou Youji, I'm Schuldig. Nice to meet you," I extended my hand which he took, quite confused. 

"Maa.. so you're the famous telepath, neh?" Youji still clasped my hand and jerking my mind off his, I took my hand away, smiling at him. I made sure my smile is neither seductive nor fake. Glancing down, I noticed that he already finished his meal, and also that it was almost the same as mine. Small meal – small appetite. 

I nodded as an affirmitive and went back to my meal. But I can't eat beside him, I was too conscious of his presence. My stomach grumbled once again in protest. Nah… I have to eat and let this man out of my sight. 

"Kudou," I called him by his last name to not eject some kind of realism towards him that I liked him. "My schedule is awfully hectic that even a chat is not fit in it. I guess I have to see you next time…" I threw him a casual smile, picked up my tray and hurried to my office. My stomach was indeed contracting in hunger, and I needed to relieve it as soon as possible. 

It was Manx who I walked into when I reached my office. She was already arranging the folders on my table in one pile. Her curly red hair cascaded down her shoulders and when she turned to me, her sharp eyes gleamed in affection, and amusement. 

"Eating in your office? And I thought you were a social butterfly," she teased. 

I set the tray on the table, sitting on the chair quickly and grasped the eating utensils starvingly. 

Before I can say any reply to Manx, my stomach growled loudly, audible to this woman. My secretary laughed and proceeded to the cafeteria for lunch. I sighed and gobbled the food rapidly. 

I don't know why, but before the last spoonful of food was raised to my lips, a memory flashed before my eyes… 

__

A tall man stood, staring blankly before a young man in a suit. The young man smirked sadistically as the man in front of him suddenly went into a convulsion, grasping his head and ripping his hair. Moments later, the man collapsed on the floor, still staring blankly at nowhere…

"Hmm…" I uttered and gulped the last spoonful of food. The anamnesis was quite distant and I couldn't remember what it was or when it was. The clock in front of me told me that it was already fifteen minutes before worktime once again, so it's not the time to brood on such memories because fixing my mind on work is mandatory. 

I lifted my feet onto the table and rested back on the chair. Closing my eyes, I breathed slowly and deeply, raising my mental barriers, concentrating on relieving the thoughts hovering my mind. I kept it blank. I felt every muscle and bone relax, the breathing constant, and the blood flowing naturally, from my heart to the veins, the arteries, and finally reaching the brain… 

Then I languidly lifted my eyelids; first staring at a certain object and letting it roam around the room. 

How it made me feel at ease…

Manx abruptly went into the office to collect whatever that hindered me from work. I composed myself and gave her a mental thank you. It was five minutes before work. I wore my coat to make myself look respective enough, brought the folders and headed to the other side of my office, the 'consultation' or 'session' room. 

As usual, I have to enter the room from the glass sliding door, sit on the armchair opposite the couch, set the folders on the side table and wait for my patient. 

But today there was already someone in the room.

From my stance, I can glimpse at a mass of longish brown hair and a pair of black jeans plus a pair of slightly new authentic leather boots. 

Then it registered in my mind: the brown eyes.

Before I can take another step, the figure looked up with its depthless, glassy brown eyes, and gazed at me. I felt a shiver crawling up my spine from his look. It was in a way, formidable as I stared back at him. 

I knocked myself mentally and reminded myself that THIS was my show, the work I attend to. I control it. 

"So… you are?" I sat on the couch. There was momentary silence. I started to reach for the files, but suddenly…

[- You know what I want. -] the sentence rang in my mind in a whispery voice. I almost dropped all the folders on the sudden mind message. I turned to look at the boy, or girl, I don't know… Its eyes were fixed on me. Blank, lifeless… 

[- Who are you? How do you do what I can do? -] Intense curiosity rather than fear came from me. 

Then the figure did something unexpected. Its lips curved upwards that made its eyes light a bit. It smiled. Its features almost resembled a normal human being…

[- Your ego is unnaturally high, Schuldig. -] the figure sat up straight, its pale face highlighted by the fluorescent light. At that time, I knew that this was a boy. A young boy, to be precise. I nearly forgot that he called me by my name for I was too absorbed in his features. I shook my head and replied:

[- And you are weird. How did you know my name? And what is your name? -] I was becoming desperate to know his name. It was irritating to find someone who I cannot fully control. 

For a moment, he just stared at me, without blinking an eye. Soon afterward, his lips opened to state in a whispery voice. He folded his hands on his lap before saying, "Naoe Nagi. I need your help."

I tried to enter his mind, but again, it had mental shields. I muttered a curse in frustration.

It was really hard to feel powerless over someone, when, in all the years of your career you had the power to manipulate minds and read it. And now I had to ask, and ask… 'coz I had no chance of entering this fucking boy's brain.

"What do you mean by help -" I was cut off when all of a sudden, the door opened and a tall man with wild blond hair burst in, wearing a smile in his face. However, when he glimpsed at the unknown being in the room, his expression became worry, then confusion. 

"Hey, Mr. Schuldig, I thought I was in the first list of your schedule?" Kudou Youji asked, looking from me then to Nagi Naoe. 

I gave this boy a baffled expression and picked the first file. When I opened it, the blond's name was printed on the first page. I gasped and started to look up at this Nagi Naoe boy.

Yet when I did, he was gone. Only the imprint of his weight on the couch was left.

God, this was really creeping me out.

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Author's note: Okay, there you go. I hope it's not too lame. Maybe on the next chapter I'll concentrate on Schuldig's thoughts. This is to be continued, obviously. ^-^ Thank you for the reviews. Again, reviews are entirely welcome and would really help me. Thanks a lot.

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	3. Superego, Ego, Id, and damnation

Notes:

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AU fic

[- Ramblings -] = thoughts/telepathy

**__**

Italic sentences = memories

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[[[ - _blah blah -_ ]]] **=** thoughts/memories w/c are read by Schuldig 

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POV: 1st POV of Schuldig, some 3rd POV 

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Yaoi: Pairings: SchuXblah blah blah

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Warning: the usual swearings and messings… and add the insults too… and so, the rating will change to PG-13, because it might cause a young reader to be forever petrified. 

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My Suicide, My Pain

Chapter 3: Superego, Ego, Id, and damnation

"Shit, was that your brother or what?" Youji was still on the entrance, scowling. Yeah, it was something of a sight, him scowling and I, staring at the door where the so-called Nagi Naoe probably escaped. I noticed Youji seemed to look manly in his scowling state… weird… the first time I saw him he looked kinda… girly. Yeah…

I shook my head and turned to look at the folders. My mind was still full of confused thoughts about that kid, that it almost reached to a headache. I don't even know what he wanted; his mind was entirely closed with strong mental shields. 

Right now I feel vulnerable. So fucking vulnerable. 

"So, hey Mr. Schuldig, can we start? My time is with you is already ticking down…"

I was still staring down at the floor, getting my mind blank so anything won't interfere with my business.

I heard the blond sigh, and then a soft plop followed. "Hey, hello? Are you sure you're earning money that way? Hey carrot-head!" a note of frustration rose from his voice. 

Finally I tilted up my head, ignoring the taunt, reminding myself that this is business, and nothing more. This man might look like a lost circus man needing medication, but certainly he is my patient. Sighing audibly, I picked up the folder and scanned the pages. 

I let out a soft whistle.

This Kudou Youji is something. His documents told me that he was a former detective and was practically haunted by images of dead bodies and unusual dreams of death. His main problem, however, was that he become depressed for some reason he doesn't know, and has troubles identifying his personality and mood. It was written that he haven't experienced losing a loved one and his difficulties were considerably 'easy' for a normal person, plus according to my subject, there was something in him that doesn't come out, which is the possible source of his issue. 

So that means my gift is overly needed in his case. I let out a sigh. Well, almost everytime I use it… This is not different from my other patients… I glimpsed at the clock consciously, discovering that there's only thirty minutes left for our meeting…

"Mr. Kudou, can you please relax and lie down on the couch?" Youji obliged immediately, sensing my haste and my jumbled, near confused emotions printed on my eyes. All the sounds seem to disappear from the room as I focused my mind on my patient. I stared aimlessly at something, I don't know what, because all I see is black, and then here it comes: the loops of thoughts entering my mind, nearly my own voice, mixing with mine. And there were some blurred pictures appearing on my blackened sight, some Youji's, some unknown – faceless.

__

[[["Youji, you didn't pay the electricity bill again! Damn you!" "Damn yourself, old geezer, you're the one making a mess." "If you just work better so that fucking company will pay you more!" "Yeah, sure, how about you? You're a fucking couch potato! And don't even curse the company I work in! Shit!" "Youji, the… the… DEAD! Dead!" "What happened? Jesus! Who killed them?" "Bring it in the morgue. Fast." "Can you hear it, Youji? Can you hear its fucking heart? You killed him, you're a murderer! You fucking killed him, I know it!" "I didn't kill him, no, shit! You're the only one who can blame yourself! You were there, and you even fucking deny it! You KILLED HIM!" "Youji, you're a worthless son of a bitch, remember, I raised your fucking brains, so don't ever, ever raise your voice on me!" "Damn you! Don't ever show your stinking face around here anymore! I'll kill you! I'll kill you! I'LL KILL YOU MOTHERFUCKER! I WILL KILL YOU!"]]]

The armchair I was sitting on tumbled backwards, and I screamed, "God!" I collapsed on the floor, cradling my head in my hands. The voices were becoming louder and louder until it became unbearably loud that I feel as if my head was going to burst… The sharp edge of the voices were tearing my skull apart, and I gripped my hair to loosen the pain. But all my efforts were worthless…

Kudou bolted from the couch, I know, because the sounds around were becoming sharp, even the contact of his boots on the floor, or even the air touching my skin. A big blur with almost yellow hair faced me, shaking my shoulders as I continued to scream. And on this point, I fear that I would lose my own thoughts and start once again on my babyhood… Damn, no… 

For some reason, all the thoughts that enter my head are tragic, loud, and full of hate. 

Damn you, Youji, are you doing this intentionally… 

I began to shout incoherent words as the door opened, and a mass of red hair appeared beside the blond's. The slight bang of the door racked my brains… My mental shields… No, it's breaking apart… Am I going to live? Am I going to lose myself? Damn no, no… 

"What did you do?"

"I don't know… He suddenly was there, on the floor…" 

Am I still alive? But the voices disappeared, and the thoughts were not in my mind anymore… Is this heaven? Am I being questioned if I deserve to be here? 

"Did he had some troubles before he used his telepathy on you?"

"Yeah, I think so. This small boy seemed to disturb his mind."

"Small boy?" 

The voices were swirling when it reached my ears. I tried to open my eyes, but the slight movement caused a stabbing pain in my head. Heck, what time is it? I need my job; it's what I live for…

"With dark hair. But that's the only thing I remember about the kid. It left quickly after I went into the room. I didn't remember what it wore, but one thing's for sure – it's a kid."

[- Manx… -] the addressed gasped, stopping the conversation with the person she's with. I forgot who it was… I vaguely heard Manx's answer from her mind.

[- Yes? Are you okay? -] 

[- No, I am not okay. What time is it? -]

"Manx?" the other voice asked.

"Keep quiet, Mr. Schuldig has already awakened and rejuvenating his mental shields," Manx said in a whisper.

[- Manx… -]

[- You should rest, Mr. Schuldig. Don't force yourself. -]

The unclear voice of Manx irritated me slightly. [- The time, Manx… -] I felt weak.

[- It's not going to change anything. Please, rest. Sleep. -] 

"Damn it, what's the time?!" I yelled, but I guess for the two people there, it's more of a hoarse whisper. 

The unfamiliar voice swirled in my hearing. "Two thirty in the afternoon."

[- I'm damned. What about my patients? -] I asked Manx faintly. I tried hard to focus on Manx only. Luckily, Manx have got a blank mind so I'm safe in it…

[- Some set up another appointment, and the others obeyed Mr. Chezit's suggestion. -] a hint of annoyance blended in Manx's reply. Bitter.

[- And that is? -] 

"Manx?" the alien voice said. Manx replied with an exasperated 'wait'. 

[- To visit our beloved boss-psychologist, who apparently is busy with so many things. Mr. Chezit's position will go low because of his moron ideas. Our boss-psychologist can be very dangerous sometimes. -] Manx snickered. Bitter once again. I nearly tasted it…

[- Ah… He's dead. -] I sighed and closed the connection. Manx sensed this and turned to the other person. 

"Now, Mr. Kudou, you may go. You can set another appointment if you want. I'll lead you to my desk," Manx stood up, her heels clicking, the sound going faint, and fainter. 

"Mr. Schuldig, see you another time…" the called Mr. Kudou said before going out of the room. 

And then I finally remembered the voice. That blond who called himself Kudou Youji. Yeah… I managed a smirk before I closed my senses and let myself drift in the black, fathomless cycle called sleep.

(**Third POV**)

The farthest hallway on the building was stifling hot; every inch of the long seats was occupied, and there were more than twenty people cramping their asses on the seats. Fortunately, there were attendants who made the situation more tolerable, for every head staying on the hallway had terrible mind problems, which is extremely dangerous to themselves, and the people around them. There was audible banging of things inside the consultation room, and some curses in other languages. 

A middle-aged woman stood up, her face impassive and then began to rap on the door of the consultation room. One of the attendants restrained the woman and made her seat once again on the seats with the other waiting people. 

"Damn, whatever happened to that psychologist!" a man yelled, checking his watch, then looking at the girl beside him, who obviously needed help. 

"I heard he went into a convulsion because of his… what was that? Telepity?" a man in street clothes informed.

"Telepathy, dimwit," a redhead murmured almost inaudibly, but unfortunately, the man heard it and pounced the redhead. There was a sudden loud pouncing filling the hallway, which was immediately noticed by the attendants.

"Hey! Hey! Stop it!" a big-jawed attendant broke the pouncing, which was mostly done by the man in the street clothes, whose eyes flashing angrily at the redhead. 

"Hn. This is stupid. Waste of time," the redhead said to himself.

One of the attendants sighed haggardly as he studied the situation. He fanned himself before making the remark to his co-worker. "Damn, I understand why boss is wrecking his office just now. There are a bunch of demented people squeezed in this room! Even I couldn't handle this." 

The redhead glared at the attendant. "I'm not demented. My stupid sister suggested this stupid thing," he whispered again to himself. 

Suddenly, the banging and cursing inside the consultation room terminated, followed by a seemingly harrassed secretary peeking out of the room. "May I call Mr. Ran Fujimiya? You're first," the secretary stammered.

The pissed off redhead stood up in his full height, the long stick of his earring swaying with his walk. His all-black attire contrasted his white skin and all in all he was manly, just reduce those sideburns and he's all Mr. Sex-God-for-all-genders. And so, he went in the room, to another room and was told to wait for the doctor to come. 

While he was waiting for the doctor, Ran gazed at the leeway. It was a very dark room, the wallpaper design was black smoke with red on the background. The couch he was sitting on was grey, and was made with pure leather. In front of him was a black armchair, but the thing that made the atmosphere of relaxation are the dim yellow lights.

But also, it denotes foreboding and fear. The crashing and booming were heard once again, and much audible to Ran. 

A long loop of curses in different languages followed. Ran felt a shiver travelling up his spine as the voice came close. A moment later, the owner of the angry man appeared in front of Ran. 

The redhead didn't know if he would just stare, or say, 'thank you, but I think I'll set another appointment another day' to the psychologist. For evidently, the man's eyes in front of him said, 'KILL'. But Ran just stared at his boots. 

The secretary's head popped from behind the other room. "Sir, would I time your meeting already?"

"You should. Thirty minutes would suffice," deep, cold, drawling. The secretary shivered and closed the door. 

"So," the psychologist's glasses glared from the light. "We haven't met, have we?"

"No." 

He sighed and sat on the armchair. Slowly, he removed his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. "You should know I shouldn't be doing this, but I am now. So, first things first. Your name?"

"Ran Fujimiya."

The psychologist returned his glasses and studied the redhead. "So Ran. What's been bothering you? Anything that I can help you with? Oh, your sister persuaded you to do this." Ran closed his mouth, but it won't close. Hey, it was exactly the thing he was going to say!

The man brushed his dark hair back, and a few stubborn strands were left, slightly covering his right eye. He smoothened his grey Americana and then clasped his other hand. "And so, according to your sister, what is it that you have to consult about?"

"About me."

The doctor sighed. "Of course. So tell me about what is happening to you."

Ran thought about this, and said in a monotone: "In my sister's words: 'my obsession'."

"What kind of obsession? Obsession towards an object? So it is on a person." 

Ran stared at the psychologist quizzically.

The doctor sighed once again. "Sorry, I have to rush our meeting. So, you are obsessed about a person, who is it, specifically?"

"My sister."

A normal person should gape at a man who mentioned he is obsessed with his own sibling. That case can be classified in the incest category… But this psychologist did not even react to the patient's statement, and it just made it more disturbing. 

"So I see. Oh, I nearly forgot. First things first, I have said. Mr. Fujimiya, I'm Dr. Bradley Crawford, and I hope you can elaborate more on your problem after you file another appointment next time, because our time is out." He made a gesture of his hands to the door. "You may go now, Mr. Fujimiya."

Ran stared impassively again at the psychologist and wondered if he really graduated from a decent university. Nevertheless, he stood up and walked to the door. When he opened it, and was greeted by the secretary, Dr. Crawford called, saying, "That's only half of what I usually charge, Tot." 

And to Ran, he said in a semi-sarcastic gleeful voice: "Have a nice day."

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Author's note: I hope it's not too lame. Wait, did I concentrate on Schuldig's thoughts? Hmm… Anyway, obviously this is not the end yet. I have too much to write about Schwarz and I love giving twisted roles… hehehe anyone want to make a kitten gay? *cackles* Of course that is unplanned, but anyone like to make me try? Heheheh… anyway, on the serious side, thanks for all the reviews. Again, reviews are completely welcomem, it would absolutely cure my chaotic mind plus it would also help me. Thank you. 

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	4. Hello, Sanity

Notes:

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AU fic

[- Ramblings -] = thoughts/telepathy

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POV: POV of Schuldig 

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Yaoi: Pairings: SchuXblah blah blah

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Author's note: /Disclaimers/ This chapter is focused to Schu's thoughts, just as I've promised that I'd do. 

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My Suicide, My Pain

Chapter 4: Hello, sanity

Who would actually believe that after a near-death mental pain, also include the fact that I'm a respectable psychologist, I'm here in the greatest club in the whole country, evidently enjoying the pitiful shortest evening of my life? (Just because Manx spent the whole two hours of my precious evening trying to persuade me to rest and lie the whole time. Like hell I would!)

Probably no one, eh? But fuck the hell out of it, because the people here are the proof of my astounding social fondness. Believe it or not, I come here on a nightly basis, for some reason I'm still seeking out. For now, I'll stick to the reason that a boring life of a psychologist needs to be spiced a bit, so to get away from the attacking insanity.

However, it's not just for spicing my life. This club is also for my entertainment. A peek in their horny complicated minds was worth the while, better than reading the minds of my boring insane patients. 

And I just love watching the youth trying to get away from reality, and resorting to the blinding and almost dizzying lights of the club, giving them the kind of a dream paradise they thought they'd never visit in their entire locked-up childhood. 

And to tell you honestly, I didn't have to suffer those long toddler years to search for this dream paradise. Hell, before I can even speak I have seen so much in my parents' mind to send me out of the innocent thing they thought a child first possessed.

I smirked to myself and gripped the second shot glass waiting for me. It was a good thing I don't get drunk easily, a dozen of shot glass might even perk me up to that hyperactive level where I can still manage my shields and my mentality. It's also an advantage - I can watch those kids writhe in extreme high while drinking my favorite alcoholic drink. 

Absolute entertainment. 

This is so much entertaining than sitting in front of the TV, with a beer in hand, watching some Academy Award winning something of a series where all those superficial things emerge, albeit not paralleling to the true nature of this rotten world. 

The woman bartender in the pink dress - if a dress it were called, for it was sticking to her skin like a snake skin - approached me, replacing the empty shotglass with a new and filled one after I downed the drink. 

"Thanks, Asuka," I uttered to the Japanese bartender, then blowing her a flying kiss. The woman chuckled, all the while blushing and proceeded to serve the other customers, majority of them already drunk. I laughed mentally, thinking they are pathetic little creatures for this drink I got here was my 15th, and it's even Johnny Walker Black Label. 

"How absurd," I muttered to myself, donning the usual smirk, and downing the drink, waiting for Asuka to come and replace it. The pounding bass of the techno music blared in my ears, threatening to break my eardrums, to the blissful delight of those teenagers dancing in the heat and light. 

Something came in contact with my biceps, and when I looked at it, it was the girl I once "hired", with the usual showy dress - showy in the sense that it showed more than what is required - and heavily make-up face. But sorry for her, I am not in the mood...

"Doctor Schuldig... how about tonight, hm? I remember our first night, you were fabolous," her voice was fake honey tainted with the trademark of a worn-out whore. I cringed and nodded to Asuka who gave me my 17th drink. And still, I'm so fucking sober, which made me glad, or I'd mindlessly hire this bitch and waste my money.

"No, thank you, I would rather stick to my whiskey," and I downed the drink, proceeding to the euphoric bodies twisting onto each other. I shoved money on the counter, signalling to Asuka, or this dirty bitch would undoubtedly steal it.

Pathetic people with pathetic lives...

I read her mind, which screamed profanities at me, but all to my indifference. Who cares? They build their life, and it happened that I build mine too, and it wasn't in the dark direction, rather to the semi-bright side. I'm a doctor, helping people, after all. 

Different acquaintances every night, yet all leading the same lives. In their minds, they can see me as a person like them too, but I wasn't. I'm a man with a lot of memories to trash, but eventually comes back to my annoyance.

And that makes the lack of drunken stupor a disadvantage. I must drain my wallet first to gain that oblivion, and drown myself in the everlasting blackness with nothing at all to disturb me. 

My flame-colored hair swinging with my every move, I made my way into the heart of the dancing bodies. I'm too young to give this euphoria up, and might not give it up until I'm capable of doing so. The light and the bass was overpowering my telepathy, and I feel satisfaction creep into me. The alcohol making its entrance to my head... Nice...

Though I'm still sober, damn it. I joined the rhythm of the bodies around me, and soon, I found a partner in this bliss, a teenager wearing leather and shin-high boots, a goth with a psychologist in disguise swinging her body with the pounding music in front of me.

I read her mind, and found interesting information. And soon I'll trash all those memories of hers and just focus on how to break her... slowly... until she'd experience the pain I've been on all my life. And then after those hell-raising days, she'd come to me, in the therapy section, to me... 

[- Nice outfit, like it. -] I mentally said to the goth girl, and her expression didn't change a bit. Doped out.

I laughed loudly, they won't care anyway. Everyone in this dance floor has his own world, no one would care if you'd vomit right in the center of it. As long as they had their bliss, no one would care about you.

Of course, it's a matter of time when this girl would seek for the true me. Right now, we're just partners in this happy imitation of a party, indifferent to what we are, and what we will be some hours from now. 

No one to care about, no one to care about me.

My perfect dream of utopia.

Just like that first night when I was shoved into the streets, to the marble floor of the park, out cold, and alone.

I laughed again, then halted when a hand began trailing from my back to my hips. I looked behind me and saw a good-looking man with auburn hair tracing his hand, mesmerized on my body. From reading his thoughts, I figured that he's doped up with heroin. 

"Baby, want to get it on?" the man grunted, his erection obscene from his all-black attire. I screwed my face in disgust, and shoved the man away. 

"Don't fucking touch me, idiot!" all at once, my euphoria faded into the unwanted memories bombarding my mind. And the image that came to me was my mother and father who half spent their lives living a whore in the clubs and even in the streets. I'm so glad when they threw me away. 

If only you can see me now, stupid parents, you'd drool to death for all I care. And beg me until you bleed to atone what you have done.

With all my anger, I punched the man on the face, then stormed out of the dance floor, heading for the bar to get more whiskey. The goth girl disappeared in the throng of people, and I was disappointed for the missed opportunity...

Oh well...

Asuka was immediately in front of me, me being the daily customer of the club. I asked for the last ten shots, and I decided that after getting myself reeled from alcohol, I'll go home and sleep for the next boring day of my life. 

Right. The first shot comes...

And the second...

Before I know it, it's already the eighth. Why am I still sober?

"Hey, are you sure this is whiskey?" I asked Asuka, who looked at me with a raised eyebrow. 

"Of course. It's Walker Black Label, Schuldig. Why? Still not affecting you?" Asuka replied, laughing. She knew how I handle alcohol, and perhaps I'm the best drinker in this club she knew. I smirked.

"Yeah, yeah. Torture," I said back, finishing the ninth and the tenth. I placed the money on Asuka's palm and stood up, walking outside the club, heading home. 

And this is where the true show begins. 

Nausea comes onto stage.

Nice, just nice...

I woke up with a pain in my head, instantly remembering last night. It was not a very nice visit to the club, most of the time I'm just angsting about my past. I didn't enjoy it a bit, and now it's getting its revenge by ravaging my day with a headache.

I hated it. I prepared for the day, topping my day with a shower, then a cup of black coffee, then I have to search for the right suit to match my mood. Hell...

I picked out a black knee-length double-breasted jacket and a pair of black pants to go with my entire glum mood. Now they'll think I work for the C.I.A. rather than in a hospital...

I sighed and drove my white Mercedes to the hospital, not bothering to strengthen my shields.

The usual happened when I entered the hospital, though the only thing that made it different was the way the thoughts got in my head. They were chaotic, and blurry, almost unnoticed from the great headache I'm having. 

I just wish there weren't too much patients or I'll die in this miserable day. I removed my trench coat, cradling it on my arm, for the lady in charge with the coats was somewhere else, and I won't even bother to look for her.

Manx was waiting in front of the door, his eyes a bit worried for me. Then she thought:

[- Someone wanted to talk to you inside. -]

I caught it clearly, amidst the chaos in my head, and I replied:

[- Thanks. A patient, I assume? -] before I received her answer, I was staring shocked from my position on the doorway of my office. 

Because on the seat adjacent the table, the mighty 'boss-psychologist' with a scary reputation, was Dr. Brad Crawford, dressed in my same black, and wearing a very, very, stern look; and sitting there very, very straight on the plush chair.

Oh what an awfully nice greeting...

****

TBC…

****

Author's note: Weee! Finally I had the inspiration to write this. I hope you liked it, and please review. I'm open to all kinds of review, so feel free to voice what you think of this fic. Thank you for reading! Finished: 10:39 PM 4/30/03


	5. You're Hopeless

My Suicide, My Pain 

**Chapter 5: _You're hopeless_**

"Dr. Crawford," I acknowledged him, nodding, and carelessly placing my hands on the pockets of my trench coat. He seemed to notice this, and he stood up as well. I bet a million dollars he doesn't want to be looked down. My head was still dull and aching, and I can't bring myself to penetrate this man's mind while in the process of wondering. 

"I see you're still wearing your trench coat. Cold? Sick?" the tall man smiled, then for a split second, there was a smirk on his smooth pale features. "Oh, of course, not. Yes? Shall we take a seat and let this be settled?" I tilted up my head from the statement, not caring if my hair fall to my eyes. I'm just too tired to put up a talk, or worse, an argument.

I closed my eyes, trying to regain my shields, but only partly. There were still pain in my head and I fear that I won't be talking straightly to this man, who also happened to be the high-ranked psychologist in this hospital. Bless my poor soul. On second thought, you would rather not. Ha, ha.

I took my usual seat behind the desk, careful not to roam my eyes at his features while on the process of sitting. There was an unlikeable aura surrounding him, almost forbidding and I don't know if it exudes uncomfortableness or fear to the person receiving it. Settling down the chair, folding my arms on the desk, I locked my eyes at his spectacled amber orbs, further inducing a pang in my head. 

"What brought you here, Dr. Crawford?" I asked, limiting my language while recovering my mental shields. One... Two... 

The man in question raised a brow, watching me. There was a glint in his eyes that seemed too forbidding, but at the same time very interesting. For the first time in my life in this building, I had a clear access to observing him closely, and what I saw didn't disappoint me. His eyes, which were amber, close to caramel, was narrow with long lashes, giving him a very sinister look. He had the most impressive nose I have ever seen in a man. It was straight and pointed, almost like it's sculpted. And his lips...

Damn, why am I doing this? I don't even have interest in men; even in Bradley Crawford, for that matter. I mentally shook my head, and then suppressed the smile tugging at my lips. Meanwhile, the man's eyebrow still didn't fall, it merely shot a centimeter up his forehead.

"You perfectly know why," he answered shortly, casting me a confused look, which to him was a slight scowl. His eyebrow eventually fell parallel to the other, and the scowl faded into an eerie smirk on his thin lips. If my shields weren't crumbled, I would've given a clever retort, but for now, I still have to analyze the other man's meaning of his words. 

Fuck my headache. I can't perceive what he meant, less run the phrase around my head. The shields were building up like sand grains, and it's damnedly killing me. So I just gave him my award-winning imitation of his eyebrow raising. Though mine trembled a bit.

"So perhaps the rumors I hear about your telepathy are all untrue. I thought it would be more interesting if you do have the talent," the raven-haired man said humorlessly, then using two fingers, he raised his glasses, causing the light to glare on the glass momentarily. 

"It doesn't matter, does it? So for the second time, what brought you here?" I articulated without thinking a bit about the situation and shut my mouth immediately, concentrating on my shields, though not faltering on observing the doctor in front of me. Instead of a surprised expression, such as raising an eyebrow, the man's lips drew in a tight line, losing all the emotions previously printed on his face. 

Somehow, I felt a certain nervousness from the act. Though, of course, due to my untouchable pride, I didn't show it. The heck with instinctive reactions of humans... 

"You certainly understand you're the second ranked psychologist here. We know our priorities; what we should do and not do. It's strictly business we're doing right about this building," he paused, tilting his head. I felt that I have to supplement a statement, so I did, without letting my lips tremble, and my concentration falter.

"Your point is?" I asked briefly. Seventy percent done, thirty percent more to go of my mental shields. Heck, why does it develop like an mp3 file in a low-speed internet connection? The voices were coming in like a tidal wave, and if I could just distinguish Crawford's mental thoughts through the wave of voices, I would be just do well. But, damn. Whoever said that hangovers were a bitch, should be given a nobel prize. Heh.

"My point is that you must do your business well. You're paid to give service to our clients, treat them, give them help. It must be clear to you that whatever the complications, you must not shed your sense of doing work. And if you don't, you should do the proper measures of excusing yourself," he paused, adjusting his glasses for the second time, long slender fingers propping the thin glass up to his eyes. "Perhaps at this point, I must say your fault straightforwardly. You failed to present yourself properly yesterday, Dr. Schuldig."

For a moment, I tried to think of the other man's meaning of his statements. I do know for those wasted minutes, I gave him a dumb look of misunderstanding, expecting him to fill for my confusion. But the bastard just kept looking at me in his business look, a mask of coldness, and devoid with emotions. However, my mental shields was fully rebuilding, and for some seconds, and I'll be at peace again. Making my face impassive, and letting a small smirk on my lips, I retorted a question at him. 

"And how did that affect you, Dr. Crawford? Does it had a lasting effect to your reputation, or even the pay for your job?" 

The head psychologist's face didn't change, and he replied fastly as I've asked him. "Apparently, you had a patient by the name of Yohji Kudou. Can you relate to me the events that have happened between you when you have been analyzing him? Have you given him help, or have you given him only trouble?" his gaze was so cold, also his words. 

"And does it affect you in the least?"

"It is not of my concern and also yours, Dr. Schuldig. Answer my question."

"There was no exchange of difficulty, in any degree, on his part," though I hated it, I need to be honest, just to get out of this bastard's questioning. "Though, he had inflicted trouble on my part, yet perhaps there would be a difficulty of you understanding the situation."

"And it was?" Dr. Crawford's glasses reflected the light, hiding his eyes. He haven't moved an inch since the start of the serious conversation, and it was making me edgy. Heck, I was talking at the head of our department, and if I made a single mistake, my ass would probably kicked from this hospital. 

"I lowered my mental walls, which is the protection to keep the voices out of my head, and entered his mind, to partly read the memories, thoughts, and to further understand his whole situation. However, as I entered his, I didn't expect that much chaos in his head, which drove me into my limits. You see, his thoughts are screaming in my head, and as a telepath, it was difficult to filter out." I gritted my teeth, while waiting for my shields to stand fully on its own. Some seconds left, and I can read this man's voice, to hear what his purposes are and what he wanted from me. 

"I thought you cannot read one's thoughts? I thought you weren't a telepath, as proven earlier?"

"I am, but due to some instances, my mental walls were unbuilt; causing the voices to enter my head."

Dr. Crawford relaxed on his chair as if suppressing a sigh, his gaze darting past me, then resting on me eventually, his amber eyes glacial. For that short while, he seemed to be contemplating about something. I just wished it was something positive for my part. His eyebrows were drawn together, bringing a fearsome effect on his expression. "By your words, you project nonsense. Supernatural things are overused, and is childish. If your mental walls are built now, let me know, and tell me what my thoughts are."

I felt a pang inside me; anger was slowly building in my blood. How dare this bastard accuse me of being a fraud! If he only knew what I bear about everyday, if he only can experience my suffering... But hey, my shields are rebuilding. Let's give this man a hell he can finally experience. 

Staring coldly as I could at Crawford, I tried to get in his mind, and was met with a cold barrier. Shocked as I was, I stared at the other man with slight curiosity, and with full confusion.

The head psychologist stood up, looking down at me with his blank eyes. "You are still lying, Dr. Schuldig. Your actions are being monitored, and might send you in peril. For now, you could do whatever you want, but not here in the hospital." He turned to leave, but I quickly stood up, anger boiling my blood. 

"You are suspending me? For what rational reasons?" I asked heatedly, eyes literally blazing at Crawford. My mental voice told me to repress my emotions, which I doubt I can. 

Without turning, Crawford answered me in his cold voice, and further with his mysterious intelligence. "This hospital forbids people who creates their own reason for their own benefit. If you are truly wrecked as you have said earlier, why were you exercising your social life in a certain club last night? Our conversation is over, Mr. Schuldig. You can leave for now, and return if you have already reformed your attitude."

I stared unbelievingly at his back as he left, closing the door behind him softly. Immediately, Manx went in, fuming as she walked to me. "How dare he accuse you like that! You know, I believe you are truly a telepath, but how could you not let a stand to what you really are?"

I sighed involuntarily, sucking in my breath momentarily. "He... he has mental walls. I can't read his mind." I slumped back to my chair, cradling my already throbbing head, still confused. 

Manx gasped. "Does that mean he is like you?"

"Well, whatever," I raised my head, rolling my eyes. "At least I can have my break. And since I'm wearing black, I might as well go to the club and have some drinks and hit a random goth girl."

[- You're hopeless. -] Manx thought, thinking that I cannot hear her. I tilted my head and smirked at her, baring my teeth tauntingly.

[- At least I'm spending my suspension productively. -] Then, I laughed, gathering my keys and other things before I stood up and left.

+ + +

Actually, I didn't head to the club at once, I first went to a coffee shop to contemplate about Crawford, and about my suspension. Mostly, it was about Crawford, how he knew all the things I was doing. Holding the cappuccino mug close to me, I visioned Crawford in his earlier expression, saying those accusations to me. Surely, he knew something others don't, and even knew he has mental walls.

If he's like me... then he's as dangerous as I am?

I took a sip from my cup, still occupied in my thoughts when a redhead sat on the table in front of me, a scowl on his pale features. I smirked and decided to lighten up a bit. I used my charisma to make him look at me, of course, using some of my telepathy for him to turn his attention to me.

And he did looked at me, with those weird, but radiant violet eyes. I smirked wider this time, nodding at his direction. "Hallo there. Isn't the weather nice?" I just received a stare, and I laughed inwardly, amused at the reaction. "I suppose you need some serious help for not being able to distinguish a nice weather?"

"I don't know you," he looked at me suspiciously, adding the narrowing of his violet eyes in effect, and then tore his eyes from me, pretending that I didn't exist. 

"So we need an introduction," perhaps my german accent was really pissing him off because when I spoke, his eyebrows draw together closer and closer. I read his thoughts clearly, which justified my thoughts about him.

[- This man is weird. Plus his voice is so irritating. I must leave, but Aya-chan would be mad at me for not waiting for her. -]

I chuckled, forgetting my suspension and played more. "I'm Schuldig, a very good looking man, as you can see, and apparently, I'm a psychologist with a very bad reputation to the head of that hospital, who is the most stuck-up Crawfords of all Crawfords. I have introduced myself, it's your turn!"

[- This man is really insane. But he is the psychologist I was supposed to see days before now. That's neat, I can consult him now, but no, he's insane. -]

I pouted when he didn't utter an answer. "No? Hmm, can I make a wild guess? You're Ran Fujimiya, and your sister is Aya Fujimiya and you have some kind of mental abnormality about your emotions towards your sister? Some kind of incestuous relationship?"

His eyes widen, and he stared at me, his mind telling me, [- He IS insane. -]

"You're just stupid to forget that I have your file in my desk."

"Oh," he muttered, and regretted that he have said it, pursing his lips quickly. After a brief pause, the redhead stood up, rigidly staring outside of the coffee shop. I smirked and stood up as well, and followed him. Suspensions can be boring, right? 

When he have closed the front door, he turned to me with an annoyed expression, actually just narrowing his eyes and twitching his lips. I have observed that his facial expressions can be pretty limited. "Why are you following me?" 

"I'm bored." 

He resisted the urge to give a rude retort, still remembering I was a doctor in the hospital and stopped short when a dark-haired girl ran to our direction, then almost glomped Ran as she skidded into a stop. The two of them are not exactly alike physically, but there's just my telepathy saying that they are the Fujimiya siblings. 

"Oniichan! I thought you'd left me! Who is he? Is he your friend?" there was a glimmer of doubt in her eyes, which I read in her mind caused by my godly wardrobe and impeccable features. 

"I don't know him," Ran said solidly, grabbing his sibling's elbow and dragging him from me. 

"Come on, Ran. Stop fooling around," turning to the girl, I asked innocently, "Are you Ran's sister?"

Aya smiled radiantly, tearing his elbow from his brother and clasping both his hands on her lap. "Yes I am. Then, I'm right that you're my brother's friend. What's your name?"

"Schuldig," I smiled, which caused a blush creep from her cheeks. I suppose Ran was annoyed at his sister's reaction for he added a scowl to his limited expression. 

"Oh, let's just have coffee, my treat!" I nodded my yes, and Ran enhanced his scowl and then surprised me when he sighed.

Later, the coffee was served and I tried to get something interesting from the duo, but unfortunately, their minds were boring, as well as their character. Aya was a foolish lass who is an average naive school girl, while Ran has become my number one hater, further increasing his scowls and glares everytime I spoke. 

And so, while Aya was ranting non-stop, I tried to pry the clusters of memories deep in Ran. All I hear now in his head were how he hated me, and how stupid I am, so probably risking my head wouldn't be a problem. It will perhaps be worth the try. And probably know why the heck he had got a weird emotions over his sister. 

Concentrating hard, I entered the web of his mind and searched for a set of memories deep in his head. I've gone too far, so I settled for a small part where images were actually interesting. A flash of a scene in the night with the moon radiant, followed by a scene where a rushing limousine, and then a child being tossed into the air, landing on the rain-splattered cement. The last was actually blurry, a pair of hands reaching out and carrying the injured child. And then there was nothingness. 

That was really interesting. I wonder who was in that car... 

"Schuldig?" Aya waved her hand over my eyes, her Japanese accent making Schuldig sound Shudei, which is of course, not so surprising for everyone in the population of Japan will pronounce my name like that, except for some who had improved and say it as Shuldih. 

I smiled forcedly, and pretented to remember something I left in the office. "Oh, I'm so sorry, I have to go, I have left something in my office." Turning to Ran, I gave him a smirk and I said, tauntingly, "See you, in my office, perhaps?" And I left, giving Aya a cheerful wave before I closed the door of the coffee shop.

So where now? I asked myself, opening the door of my black convertible Porsche, stepping in and thought for a place to stay momentarily. But the words of Crawford cut in my mind, separating my evil desires of getting in a club and just sleeping in my place. 

I sighed and started the engine. My house would be my first option for the day. 

+ + +

I opened the 31-inch flat TV, flipped the channel in sheer boredom, and settled for a raven-haired goth playing the piano like a machine. It reminded me of Crawford, so I switched the channel again. This time, it was a local channel with the news report. The news reporter began ranting immediately.

'For three years, the death of Mr. Hoffman remained unsolved.' A picture of an old man with lean frames and longish black hair appeared on the screen. 'In his murder site, there were no footprints, or any evidences whatsoever to support the case, however, the police have found some leads on the former psychologist. It has been said by the police that there was a list of people in his journal, which was assumed to be the people he had feared for the years, or threatened him, for there were some notes on his journal that certain people were blackmailing him and threatening to kill him, in connection to the crimes he had committed, including getting a girl in coma.' the newscaster smiled, and proceeded to give the other news.

Oh how cute and stupid people can be... I bet I can solve the murder in less than ten hours. No, five hours. 

Suddenly, I was onslaught by a memory buried in my mind, hurting my head more, making it throb painfully and my eyesight blackened, transferred by the images in my head. 

A man in a suit stood, his face shadowed by the sunlight on his back. His head had an outline of waves, and it gestured its hands in slow motion. The next thing I saw is a man crumpled on the floor, tearing its hair, and blood splattered on the carpet. 

My sight cleared again, and I stared wide-eyed on the TV, which was now showing a Japanese celebrity swatting another celebrity. Somehow, the memory I just saw was forgotten in the recesses of my mind. Shutting the TV off, I head to my computer and connected to the net, searching Mr. Hoffman. 1,000+ results were given, and I clicked on the first URL immediately, an article and biography of the psychologist.

Questions aroused in my head as every paragraph passed, each one seemingly connected to my memory, and to some other person's memory. 

It's time for me to barge in other people's business.

Heh.

As if I haven't done that before.

Thanks to Crawford, I'm becoming a detective now.

**TBC.**

AN: [usual rant, ignore if you like] Hope you like this chapter, though I fear 'Fade to Black' by Robert Goldsborough quite affected the way I wrote this, but nevermind. See? Even the ending has a 'detective' word to it! I definitely won't make Schudelicious a boring fat, orchid-lover detective. Never! I would be reading plenty of Christopher Pike's books, so maybe my writing would be twisted and… nice... Just hope I won't write the next chapter while I'm reading HP and the Order of the Phoenix. My multi-paneled mind might make Crawford the version of Snape, which I wouldn't like to happen too. Anyway, thanks to **Picaro for being the almighty beta-reader! All reviews are welcome, even if you want to point out something which you think is so lame to me, just do it, it's your right. Thanks for reading.**


	6. What, Crawford?

**My Suicide My Pain**
    
    **Chapter 6**: _What, Crawford?_
    
    Believe it or not, I haven't got an idea how to start this idiotic detective business. Just fucking believe it. Somehow my mind screwed my telepathy that one day when I opened my eyes to the world like a newborn baby and the world naughtily screamed at me, the usual voices amplified one hundred times, and seeming to throw in too much treble and less bass. It's not my fault that my head isn't Dolby-surround!
    
    I have found too much information in the internet, but the whole of it didn't mix my exaggerated confidence in solving the matter. And another thing, why would I damnedly help some old psychologist? Would I gain something positive from it? Obviously nothing, however, the buried memory in my head which I saw just yesterday bothered me. If I had that memory, surely, I had something to do with it, or I was involved at least. Rational enough, but not entirely convincing. My telepathy short circuited with my emotions that sometimes memories that entered me were buried permanently in my subconscious.
    
    I sighed resoundingly, and stood up from the couch to get a bottle of beer. Argh, my house was totally uncomfortable. I was more at ease in a darkened room, with lots of skin... and lots of targets. Yeah... Might as well be going tonight...
    
    I rubbed my temple irritatedly and walked lazily to the kitchen. Fortunately, I had drawn my shields up before anything drastic could have occurred to my poor telepathic mind. This was not really my day... I sighed.
    
    Opening the fridge, three almost empty shelves greeted me. The only contents of the damned refrigerator were the beers in the chiller. It's not my fault that I'm not a house person, or an introvert. Opening the can hastily, I drank half of the contents without a pause, then, slamming the can on the kitchen table, I hauled myself on a chair near me.
    
    Oh damn... why is boredom torture? Suddenly the phone rang, which startled me. I literally jumped from my chair upon hearing the phone, but anyway, I lifted the receiver from the cradle. I ran a finger on my temple. Hard.
    
    "Schuldig," I said, eating my voice.
    
    "Schuldig," A very whispery, soft voice echoed and I sighed, rolling my eyes. I surveyed the people outside my house telepathically, but it radiated nothing of the call, but only a slight throbbing in my head.
    
    "Whaddya want?" I turned on the small kitchen TV, flipping the channels to search for a decent show. Waiting for the reply of the caller, I watched the discovery channel where it was discussing extreme engineering and building a bridge around the world.
    
    "What do I want?" the whispery voice retorted and a slight noise interrupted 
    
    the communication. Hastily turning down the volume, I  recognized the noise as some sort of rubbing into bushes.
    
    Bushes. Deja vu.
    
    /I stood up, but in the corner of my eyes I never failed to see the rustle of the bushes on the corner, eventually stopping. Without warning, a pair of large brown eyes appeared from the dark. Dark brown hair, too./
    
    Before I was able to even say another word, the noise dispersed, and the 
    
    voice returned, now more familiar than ever. "What do I want? I want you, Schuldig."
    
    "Nagi Naoe," as soon as the other paused, I took in my show. Mr. Hoffman remained in the pits of my mind, as well as my headache. I stared at the number on the phone screen, and memorized it. It was going to be beneficial for me some time, also to find out who Naoe Nagi really is.
    
    "Do you need me as well, Schuldig?"
    
    "I need you to tell me why you have been stalking me for the past few days," I snapped, shutting the television finally off. The look of people awed by a structure seemed to ignite fury in my blood more, intensifying the annoyance, and unfortunately, the throb in my head brought by this Naoe kid.
    
    "Didn't you hear me? I want you... and your time," a deafening pause. "Do you need me?"
    
    "Why should I need you? I have nothing to do with your fucking life!" My grip on the phone hardened, I gritted my teeth as not to lose control. This was positively annoying. I didn't even know what to do next; yell or slam the phone down.
    
    Suddenly the whisper became normal in tone, causing a shiver to run up the length of my arm. Naoe's voice was deep, very mature, indifferent and... where had I heard that kind of voice before? There just seemed to be a thing that was buried in Naoe's expression of his vocal cords. Something terrifying; like he knew something I didn't. "Mr. Hoffman. You have to find out what's in your head," There was a pause and a slight noise in the background. Naoe's voice became faint and whispery again, for some reasons. 
    
    "You need me for that, Schuldig I -"
    
    A busy tone. The fucking kid hung up with me, when things finally got interesting.
    
    "He knew Mr. Hoffman... and me," I propped my chin on my palm and thought about it. It made no sense. If he knew Mr. Hoffman, then definitely, or probably, my invasion in his head days ago caused the memories to onslaught me. But again, it didn't make sense. If he had caused something in my mind, I should've seen it before he had done it. Or, perhaps, he was a telepath too?
    
    Oh damn, damned thinking, made my head swirl, and caused a major earthquake inside... Poor brain, poor me, swirling in the uncanny cause and effect of life, but getting stuck in the fucking effect and never going back to the cause...
    
    "Oh wow... the power of schizophrenia," I muttered, bland of humor, and went back to my beer. Picking up my cell phone, I dialled Manx's number.
    
    "Yes, Schuldig?" Manx answered, sounding bored.
    
    "Oh what the fuck, did I permanently got kicked off from the hospital and now you're disrespecting me? My, my, I'm perpetually hurt," I pouted, and I was sure it reached the other line for Manx sneered, and then some papers were shuffled.
    
    "Well, well, put it up with me. I'm tired, working endlessly today. Aranging papers, documenting patients' records, cancelling appointments, answering thousand of calls, running around the building... And it's all your fault, if you just listened to me about not going out last night-" Manx's usually professional voice came out as tired and weary.
    
    "It wouldn't make any difference. I received a call a while ago from this number," I walked to the living room, and plopped on the leather couch. Manx sighed on the other line, and I smirked while I told her the number.
    
    "I suggest I'll call you later, this is going to take some time, all right?"
    
    I clicked on the end button and closed my eyes. I wasn't going think this time, I was too worn out, and I didn't like the prospect of thinking again of that Nagi Naoe kid. Based on his previous actions, I wondered if it's appropriate to call him kid.
    
    "Kid, kid, kid..." I whispered to myself.
    
    I turned the television on again, and picked the channel where they were 
    
    featuring Hawaii as their destination for the week. White sands and clear blue waters slowly relaxed my mind, removing all my thoughts. Ah, naked women, oh damn that editor, they censored the most interesting parts. I flipped the channel and ended up in a psychological thriller. Now, that's more like it.
    
    Settling on the couch, I eventually relaxed, while clutching my remote control and the empty beer on both hands. When I was finally drifting into a glorious nap, the phone rang.
    
    Cursing with rainbow colours, I stumbled up and got the receiver behind me. 
    
    Yet before I could utter a single curse, a breathless Manx said her unique hello to me: her hushed gasps.
    
    "Dr. Schuldig, you're not going to believe this, so I advice you to prepare yourself so as not to shock yourself. The number you have given me, I checked it with the security section of the hospital since any directories could not help me a bit. Having the security's section's information, we then can conclude that it is absolute."
    
    "Save me from your flowery words, just get to the point. Who is it?" I muttered impatiently.
    
    Manx took a deep, dramatic breath and blurted it out. "Crawford."
    
    I chuckled throatily, visualizing Dr. Crawford bent down in the bushes calling me and giving me weird clues on these trivial things. "The rat is playing with the telepath again," I cooed, and proceeded to chuckle again.
    
    "You think I'm lying? Think again, Schuldig. You do not know Dr. Crawford at 
    
    all. All you know about him is that he lends his time in the hospital to profit. Other than that, you are naive about his nature and his background."
    
    I stopped chuckling and thought about it more. "Yes, it may be possible..."
    
    "Did you recognize the voice of the caller?"
    
    I stopped in astonishment as a thought occurred to me. So perhaps that meaned that Naoe Nagi had something to do with Crawford, that's why he used the doctor's number. "No, it was someone else."
    
    "Oh," Manx said exasperatedly. "Well then I bid you good luck with your intruder. And if it were Dr. Crawford, all right, notify me. I cannot pass a very juicy news," and Manx hung up.
    
    What? Crawford? This didn't make any sense.
    
    I cradled my head in my hands, and felt the rush of pain splitting my head. All these thoughts were causing a wreck in my shields. The first bout of voices were coming in through the damage, and it was making my head throb all the more. Plus the words 'Naoe Nagi' and 'Bradley Crawford' made my brain scramble until the only rational thoughts were further messed up in my head.
    
    Perhaps a visit in my comfort place might do me good... I thought off-handily and went to pick up my trench coat, not even thinking that the temperature could have risen up due to the fact that spring was almost over.
    
    Opening the door quickly, I found myself face to face with a certain blonde blending in in the shadows of my front step. Adjusting my eyes to the dark, I recognized the slightly sunken dark green eyes, the wide lips and the outfit that once attracted me to him. How fascinating to see a person again in the darkness, so enticing and beautiful. And also the fact that he once shared his chaotic thoughts with me, which silently vowed now a destruction to my unguarded shields.
    
    The effect rose twenty-fold as the being of such implied intentions stood right in front of my doorstep, impassive features sharp against the moonlight.
    
    "Yes?" I articulated as casually as I could, but inside the confusion and the doubts were settling in. I wasn't able to enter his head in my condition, or else his thoughts would weaken me, and weaken my reasons and logic.
    
    'Naoe Nagi, Bradley Crawford'
    
    My head pounded like bass.
    
    "I need to talk to you," His voice was grave, as well as his expression.
    
    Tucking my hands in my trench coat, I refused to go in once again. But there 
    
    was something about him that influenced me to return to my house, and accommodate him nicely.
    
    'Naoe Nagi, Bradley Crawford'
    
    Somehow Kudou Yohji intrigued me. As well as Naoe Nagi and Bradley 
    
    Crawford.

**TBC.**

**Author's Notes:** Thank you **Picaro** for beta-ing for me and also test-reading! Thank you thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading this, as I have enjoyed writing it. 


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